Santa's Helper
by Princess Pinky
Summary: Amy is forced to take John Christmas shopping with her and finds herself trying to come up with a good distraction when it comes time to go to the checkout counter.


**A/N:** This is a little late since Christmas is over, but I just never got around to finishing it in time for Christmas Eve, so here it is now. This is partly inspired by a true story.

_**Santa's Helper**_

"I wants dat one and dat one and dat one!" John Juergens gushed from the child's seat of the shopping cart. His eyes were the size of bowling balls as he watched a Hot Wheels race track, a _Harry Potter_ Lego set, and a _Transformers_ Optimus-Prime semi truck glide by on the conveyer belt.

The cashier, an elderly woman with a salt-and-pepper bob and thin lips, smiled fondly at the child as she rung up each toy as they came. From the far most point of her eye, she could tell the little boy's mother looked distressed as she tried to desperately distract him from viewing the items. Attempting to help she asked, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"John!"

"Oh, that's a very good name," she nodded. "Well, John, did you know that your mother is helping Santa Claus this year?"

"You is?" he asked, looking bright eyed at Amy Boykewich.

Not sure where the cashier was going with this, but welcoming the distraction, Amy nodded emphatically. "You can't tell everyone though."

John shook his head, putting on his best hush-hush face. "Why?" he asked, his voice in the tone of a ghost story whisper.

"Well your mommy is so trustworthy that Santa knew she would be able to help him pick out just the right toys for all the little boys and girls around the world who don't have any toys yet."

"No toys?" John gasped. "Why don't they have toys?"

"Some people aren't as fortunate to have as good a mommy as yours," the cashier told him softly. "And Santa and his elves are so busy this year that they had to get more help."

"Mama's Santa's helper?"

"Yep!"

"So da toys Mama gotted are for sad boys and gills?"

The cashier nodded. "Have you had a chance to write Santa a letter this year?" she asked, changing tracks.

"Oh!" he squealed. "Yes! Daddy and I whited a lettew tomowow!" John announced proudly.

"You mean 'yesterday,'" Amy corrected.

"A huh," John nodded blissfully. "And we puts it in a wed enverlope and den in da mailbox! I even gots to lick it closed!"

"And did you make sure to tell Santa everything you wanted for Christmas?"

Again, John's head began nodding a mile a minute. "We made free whole pagers!"

"That's a very long letter," the cashier winked. Once the line of boyish toys were gone, she began to scan items such as a Disney Princesses dress up chest and American Girl dolls. "And have you been _very_ good this year, John?"

John looked to Amy and nodded. "I been good! I been good, huh Mama?"

Amy looked up from her check book to ruffle her son's hair. "You've been wonderful this year, honey."

"Wonderful!" the cashier praised.

"So do I gets toys too?" he asked, turning as far as the seat would allow and pointing to the bags containing the toys he'd been eyeing on the conveyer belt.

"Well you can't have those ones," the cashier reminded gently. "But if you've been a good boy and told Santa what you wanted, then I'm sure Santa will…" She eyed Amy for confirmation, the latter of which nodded furiously out of John's sight. "…make sure they are under the tree for you on Christmas Eve!"

John gasped and clapped his hands in ecstasy. "Christmas Eve?"

"Yes! But only if you go to sleep, because Santa Claus won't come until you're in bed and asleep!" she warned.

John grasped the handle of the shopping cart fervently. "C'mon, Mama! Huwwy! We gots to gets home and gets weady fow Chwissmas Eve!"

Amy tore out her check and handed it to the cashier. "Thank you!" she whispered, relieved. "If I could've gotten my shopping done without-"

"Say no more!" the cashier grinned, glancing down at the date on the check. It was a full two weeks before the twenty-fourth of December and she knew the rosy cheeked little boy in the cart would have a long, anxious wait to get ready. "And don't forget to leave milk and cookies for Santa!"

John bounced against the restraints in his seat. "Milk and cookies, Mama!" he bellowed as Amy began to push the cart away. "We make chocot tip cookies fow Santa?"

Amy kissed her son's nose as she breezed into the chilled December air of the parking lot. "We'll make whatever you want!"

"Mama?"

"Hm?"

"Can we makes some chocot tip cookies fow da gills and boys wifout toys too?"

Amy paused at the rear of her van, unable to resist smiling at her son's thoughtful innocence. "I think that's a perfect idea, John," she agreed wholeheartedly. From her pocket, the soft whir and simultaneous vibration of her cell phone begged for her attention. Still smiling, she collected the phone and pressed it to her ear. "Ben?"

"You sound happy."

"Ben!" John grinned, reaching for the phone.

Amy smirked. "John says hi."

"Tell him I said hi back," her husband's voice came from the speaker. "I'm sorry we had to work late," he apologized. "Ricky and I are just finishing up. This has been our busiest holiday season yet!" He paused, then asked, "How are you?"

"We're good. Just got a little shopping done…you'll probably be home before us, actually. And so I was wondering if I could trouble you for a favor?"

"What's that?"

"John wanted to make some cookies for the homeless shelter and I was thinking we could make it a family thing. I know it's Adrian's day with-"

"I'll get her on the phone," Ben cut in. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind, that's a great idea!"

"And maybe I could swing by and try to get Robie on my way home too?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

"So I'll see you at home then?"

"See you at home."

"Love you!"

"Love you too!" Amy grinned, before slapping her phone closed. She swooped down and gave her son a kiss on his forehead. "Looks like we're gonna have a full kitchen tonight! What d'ya think about that, my favorite Little Helper?"

"Cookie Monstew attack!" John shrieked, pitching forward in an attempt to tickle his mother.

Amy began to laugh and dodged John's wiggling fingers and instead grasped her son's tummy and began to tickle it and work her hands up until she was tickling him under his arms, causing the little boy to laugh uncontrollably. "Christmas Cookie Monster counterattack!" And when she was done torturing her son with tickles, she scooped him out of the seat and hugged him to her chest. "You've got a beautiful heart, John. You're the best Little Helper Mama _or_ Santa could ever want!"


End file.
